Smoke wafts up from the lounge
among young bamboo.
I am standing on the balcony
backlit from a desk lamp,
cutting the ends of her hair.
The soundtrack of laughter
drowns out the news story
about the Japanese man
who ate a woman in France.
The French didn’t want
to deal with him and
neither did the Japanese.
He lives somewhere here
and has published too many books
for a murderer.
I wish the boy upstairs could see
us from his balcony in this beehive.
He never looks for me.
Mar 22, 2020
Mar 22, 2020 at 1:13 AM UTC
Smoke wafts up from the lounge
among young bamboo.
I am standing on the balcony
backlit from a desk lamp,
cutting the ends of her hair.
The soundtrack of laughter
drowns out the news story
about the Japanese man
who ate a woman in France.
The French didn’t want
to deal with him and
neither did the Japanese.
He lives somewhere here
and has published too many books
for a murderer.
I wish the boy upstairs could see
us from his balcony in this beehive.
He never looks for me.
a little horror